Chapter 27 - The Northern Lands (IN PROGRESS)
27
The Northern Lands
The earth stretched out like a map below. At first the scenery had been pleasant, unpopulated forest like the one that surrounded Aurehaven, with small stretches of gray meadows. Patches of snow had glistened like sugar on the ground and on the trees. Slowly, the world below had transformed to one of purest white, broken only by tough evergreens and the shining, satiny ribbons Robert knew to be frozen streams. Hardly anyone seemed to reside here, save for some very furry wildlife.
At first, Robert had flown as high as possible in the icy mist of low clouds. He ducked out every so often to get his bearings. There was no one to see him, though, and as the air got colder and thinner, he found himself flying lower, if only to keep the cobweb crystals of ice from gathering on his wings. Being Fae, his lungs were adapted to the lack of oxygen in the atmosphere. However, it made him feel sleepy, and eventually he hovered just over the tops of the trees, wings thrumming at his back.
It was a long flight. Bobby couldn’t remember ever having flown for so long. It was exhausting. The endless carpet of snow blinded him, and the short cloak around his shoulders had stopped providing much warmth miles ago. Finally relenting to the pressure of his aching shoulders and numb toes, Bobby descended upon a hilltop to rest and eat. His wings went still the moment his booted feet touched the ground. They felt clumsy and awkward.
Robert was surprised at the silence. The softness of the snow swallowed up nearly everything. The river at the edge of the hill, much larger than it had seemed from the sky, was frozen solid. After eating a cold piece of bread and drinking what was not yet ice from his water supply, Bobby took off into the air again. He didn’t know how much time he had.
It wasn’t long before he knew exactly how much time he had. It wasn’t enough. He had flown above the trees for another hour when he spotted something dark on the ground. It looked like an animal, but it wasn’t moving. In the next clearing, he saw another brownish lump in the snow. He kept moving. The sky was nearly as white as the ground below it now. It was impossible to discern what time it was by the sun, as the sun was altogether invisible now. The endless expanse, above and beneath, was white. The land below was softer, slightly more edged, with the sharp, snow-covered points of tall evergreens. Not much else would be able to survive here; the spindly, skeletal trees of the Cion outskirts had long since faded in the distance. Everything was white. White and grey and brown. And red.
Bobby ducked into the trees as soon as he saw the red spots on the ground. He grabbed hold of an ice-glazed tree limb and swung into the heart of the tree, crouching on the first sturdy-looking branch his feet found. It bent under his weight, and ice and snow went tinkling to the ground. Bobby held himself still and listened.
The woodland was quiet as ever. There seemed to be no one nearby, save for the bodies. When he was sure there was no life in the clearing below, Robert fluttered gently to the ground. The snow was cold and dry. His boots squeaked a little with every step.
The bodies of twenty or so wolves were strewn across the blood-soaked snow, as well as those of several humans in tattered furs. A coffee-skinned teenager was among them, as well as several small wolf cubs. Every one was dead, each surrounded by a puddle of its own blood. The shining, slightly congealed crimson was shocking against the pure white of the snow.
Bobby knelt down to the closest, an unnaturally large brownish wolf. At first he thought it had been killed by one of its kind, or perhaps one of the lumbering white bears he had seen near water. Upon closer inspection, Bobby could not find any bite marks. Parts of the creature’s flesh had been slashed to ribbons. The cuts looked clean, as though they were from something sharp. He moved on. The first human he examined confirmed his suspicions. These were knife wounds, not bites. The deep lacerations exposed stringy muscle and slick innards. Bobby walked on, inspecting the arctic floor as he went. There was hardly a spot where the snowy ground wasn’t violated. It was packed down hard and littered with the prints of both boots and enormous, snowshoe paws. A massacre this complete could only be the work of hatred. Had there been an opposing force? For a moment, Bobby pondered the possibility that the humans had been fighting the wolves. Before he could decide for himself who had won, Bobby came across a ragged body that appeared to be both man and wolf.
They were werewolves. Bobby stared at the mangled, twisted thing. Its fur was thin and mangy in this mutated stage. The face was hideous and horrifying; its snout was lengthened from a man’s face, crammed with sharp yellow teeth. Robert had never seen a werewolf before. He thought, darkly, that perhaps it was better to meet a dead one than a live one.
Bobby gave a beheaded wolf pup a wide berth, feeling his chest tighten. Perhaps there was a nearby village. Perhaps they had sent out their greatest hunters to slay the pack that had so long plagued them. No weapons were left abandoned on the ground, however. No arrows protruded from the mounds of fur.
Bobby walked slowly and quietly out of the clearing, feeling afraid. He had never been surrounded by so much death. If all Northern folk were so vicious, how was he ever going to find the Dreamseed? The hard, sullied snow gave way to soft drifts. There were prints here too, but they were scattered and clear paths were discernible. With a heart-wrenching jolt, Bobby realized that only one set of footprints, fresher than the rest, was leading away from the scene.
One person had done this. One person had killed the shape-shifters. And, judging by the clean, unblemished trail, this person had not been injured in the slightest. It had to be Lucifer’s man. Hadn’t Landri said something about a wolf? Bobby’s red eyebrows lowered. It had to have been an assassin, finishing the job.
Robert thought quickly. The footprints were heading north. If the assassin had recovered the Dreamseed, the footprints would have been heading south, back towards Cion. No, Lucifer’s henchman had not found what he was looking for here.
Bobby turned back into a clearing and knelt by the nearest fallen wolf. He dug his bare hand into the deep fur. It was still warm, but only just. Frost was starting to form on the beast’s muzzle and whiskers. If he was going to catch up to the mercenary-or surpass him, even-he would have to move fast.
Bobby sprung into the air, wings flashing. He knew that he could be easily spotted from the ground, but he didn’t care. The assassin had used hand weapons to slaughter the wolves, and hand weapons would be useless against a quick-flying Fae. He found the trail of footprints (it was easy to see, as it was matte against the glossy white snow) and dashed in its direction, leather satchel swinging over his shoulder.
There was no more carnage visible below him. Of course, he thought, Lucifer Naej only wanted the wolves dead. The cold air whipped against his face, stinging his cheeks. The tips of the pointed, lightly freckled ears were aching with the cold. He pressed on, hardly taking his eyes from the ground, dodging back and forth to keep sight of the trail. It was turning into more of a trench now, and the edges looked sharp rather than smooth. Any moment now, he would see the assassin.
The ashy edges of rock faces were now visible in some places. The northern mountains rose up ahead, their peaks blending into the white sky. Was it his imagination, or was the sky looking grayer? Perhaps the sun was going down. Bobby wondered what time it was, and how much time he had wasted at the wolf-strewn grounds. He had to find someone soon. He had no idea where the Fae Lord’s home was, but he knew that Lucifer’s man would. Robert pulled his cloak tight to his chest, wrapping his hands in its folds. It was definitely getting colder. The trail down below was the only sign he was going in the right direction. Perhaps he had been crazy to offer to deliver the message.
If Bobby could have skidded to a halt, he would have. However, as he was in the air, he fell for a few seconds, then regained his flight pattern and hovered. There, just beyond the next patch of trees, was the end of the trail in the snow. Even from a great height, he looked menacing. His torn red shirt and leather pants had been swapped for an outfit of what appeared to be black leather. The trench coat dragged in the snowdrift behind him. Robert didn’t need to see the rows of knives strapped to the vampire’s body to know that they were there, and probably dripping with the blood of dead wolves. If it hadn’t been for the hair, he wouldn’t have recognized the vampire. It was bright, unnatural red and stuck up in a dozen sharp points.
Bobby’s breath caught in his throat. He begged it to come back for a few seconds. When he could breathe again, he was breathing hard. He stared, afraid to fly ahead and afraid to turn back. Red. The name echoed around his head like a banshee’s cry. Lucifer Naej had sent Red. Something told him to swoop down into the trees, to hide. The rustle of frozen limbs would be too much, though. Red was a savage, violent creature. And if he found the Fae boy following him…
Robert was shaking head to toe. He felt the scars on his neck tingle and wondered if it was his imagination. His wings were vibrating in the air, humming loudly. If I just stay still, he thought. If I just stay still he’ll go away.
Red was only a little further ahead when he stopped dead in his tracks. Bobby’s heart pounded. He tried hard to keep his breathing calm. It wasn’t working very well, so he held his breath.
The red-haired vampire didn’t seem to breathe at all. He was standing still, head slightly cocked. He was listening, every muscle tensed beneath the layers of leather. By the time Bobby realized what the vampire heard, it was too late. My wings, thought Robert. He had become so accustomed to the buzzing sound that accompanied him, Bobby had forgotten he was making any sound at all. That instant, Red whirled around like a cat. His ruddy face was near enough to make out the expression. The black eyes were filled with hatred. The angled jaw stuck out, giving him a stony look. His face was more scarred, but no older than it had appeared back then.